


Prologue

by elfiepike



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-20
Updated: 2006-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfiepike/pseuds/elfiepike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In you go, the guard says. Come on. Don't get too friendly, though; they're selling you on Friday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/30_kisses/profile)[**30_kisses**](http://community.livejournal.com/30_kisses/) #1: look over here. Graciously beta'd by [](http://cimness.livejournal.com/profile)[**cimness**](http://cimness.livejournal.com/).

From the outside the building is quite lovely, rising up from the sands almost fifty yards, a vision of yellow stone carved into arches with perfectly smooth columns. Statues of elephant gods and angels emerge from beneath the windows and perch atop the roof at each of the six corners.

They're taking me to a palace and not to a prison, Ohno thinks. He imagines that they're taking his shoes and shirt to replace them with better ones. He pretends the threadbare shift and pants are a new fashion.

(He doesn't do this to delude himself. Time passes easier when he's occupied his mind.)

The guard leads Ohno through a series of locked wooden doors, tall and weighty, his sand-colored uniform full of sharp corners and the squared-off badges of his office, his boots loud on the stone floor. It's clean enough but dusty; Ohno can feel the grit work between his toes with each step.

Ohno switches to counting things to distract himself. In total they go up forty-eight stairs, through five separately locked doors, and past three cells before the guard stops.

Here we are, the guard says. He knocks on the cell door, another door of dark wood with a metal window that the guard looks through. Back into the corner, the guard says. You're getting a roommate.

Ohno can't hear the reply, but the guard chuckles in a mirthless manner. The key is loud in the lock, metal against metal, the clanking sound echoing in the tall and empty hallway.

In you go, the guard says. Come on. Don't get too friendly, though; they're selling you on Friday.

   
So, Ninomiya says, why're you here?

The cell is small, almost entirely filled by the few pieces of furniture it holds: two cots, one toilet, one sink. (And a window, which is high enough to show only a sliver of pure-blue sky.)

My father lost his job, Ohno says. He couldn't pay for school loans anymore. They've taken him to the mines.

He sits on the cot on the left, giving Ninomiya plenty of space, blinking at his surroundings and thinking that he is going to draw this place, that each movement of his eyes is another frame that he can look at later and improve upon with paints and clay.

Are you going to ask me why I'm here? Ninomiya asks. His face is carefully blank, but his eyes are watchful. Ohno looks away.

How old are you? Ninomiya asks.

Eighteen. Ohno's looking at Ninomiya again without any real intention, already cataloging what colors he would use in a portrait: black for his hair with gold and blue highlights used sparingly to show how it shines. The slouch couldn't be any more exaggerated than it already is, Ohno would curve and shade it just so--

If you'e going to stare you have to also make conversation, Ninomiya says.

Sorry, Ohno says. How old are you? Why--

Is that your idea of small talk? Ninomiya looks at him like he's trying to figure out Ohno, testing Ohno to see if he really exists.

You're more interesting to stare at than the wall, Ohno offers, but glances away, trying to be obliging. He's tired all over, aching from the suddenness of having nothing that belongs to him anymore. He didn't mean to cause offense, but he thinks strangely that he hasn't.

Ninomiya is quiet for a moment. I'm sixteen, he offers. My parents gambled. My sister ran away with her wedding chest, which--good for her, at least she isn't here.

Ohno listens but mostly finds himself staring at Ninomiya's face, the way his mouth moves as he shapes words into sounds. Maybe your father and mine are working together now.

Maybe.

They stare at each other from opposite beds as the sky darkens outside, the shadows on the wall growing to encompass everything, the night cool and dry.

   
Ohno, Ninomiya says. Ohno, wake up.

Ohno does not know how long he's been asleep, but the ceiling is still dark, and there is no thin line of light along the bottom of the door; the whole floor is still and resting.

Ninomiya stands right over him, his face not more than a foot away. Ohno, he says.

Ohno thinks, hello, and turns back over.

Ninomiya holds onto his shoulder, gentle. Ohno, he says, can I sleep with you?

Ohno nods, turning over, lifting the thin blanket like an invitation. Perhaps if he were more awake he might think to question what could be wrong with Ninomiya's bed, but truthfully Ohno is not one who questions many things.

Ninomiya curls up against him, breathing on Ohno's collarbone.

Ah, Ohno says, you're cold.

Exactly, Ninomiya says.

Ohno tucks the blanket awkwardly around Ninomiya's back.

Goodnight, Ninomiya says.

Yeah, Ohno says.

   
The next time he wakes up it's still too early, but the sky through the narrow window is starting to turn white with the morning.

Ninomiya's hand moves along Ohno's belly, a sleepy movement, but Ohno's breath catches and Ninomiya opens his eyes.

They are silent, staring, and it feels like a dream.

Ninomiya moves his hand again. He doesn't look away from Ohno's eyes. Ohno finds himself breathing carefully, shallowly. One arm is trapped under Ninomiya, but he slides his free hand along Nino's side, under the edge of Ninomiya's pants, smoothing the palm of his hand against Ninomiya's hip.

Ohno would guess that they're similar heights, but the angle is awkward--he leans down and tilts his head, pressing his lips to Ninomiya's, moving so slowly he feels instinctively that the earth itself is moving faster, pacing itself with his heartbeat.

Is this--

Don't stop, Ninomiya says, and kisses Ohno again.

   
The guard knocks on the door several hours later. Come on, he says. Time to go.

The sounds of the key in the lock are quieter from this side, Ohno thinks.

They both stand up and wait. Ninomiya bumps his arm against Ohno's. My friends call me Nino, he says.

He's smiling but it doesn't quite reach his eyes; he seems fatalistic or jaded, or some combination of the two.

Nino, Ohno says. He takes Nino's hand in his and squeezes, just once. I'll remember.


End file.
